Whales Are People Too?

I have big news! There is a new social justice bandwagon to hop onto!

I was browsing my Facebook wall when I noticed a picture of a city by the ocean, but the water around it was stained red. The comment from the person who posted (someone I don’t even know, by the way, so I’m not even sure how I saw it) read, “You people are despicable,” and the heading of the article link stated, “Her child was torn from her body. It’s almost impossible to view these images.” Immediately, some sort of natural disaster comes to mind. Maybe a tsunami, pulling people into the ocean? But that doesn’t explain the “you people” comment. So maybe a genocide? I mean, it’s gotta be just the worst thing ever, right? The worst human cruelty on earth? So I clicked on the link. It took me to a page where pictures were posted of a small coastal village on the Faroe Islands during their whale hunt. There were slaughtered whales strewn along the beach, and their blood soaked the shored. One picture even portrayed a small boy sitting on top of a bloody whale carcass. I couldn’t even finish scrolling to the bottom of the page.

Mainly because I just didn't care.

Why? There’s so much public outrage (apparently) about the whaling practices of this super tiny island most people have never heard of before this issue arose. Why don’t I care about this movement against animal cruelty?

First is the location. Though I didn't know where the Faroe Islands were initially, if they’re hunting whales, then they’re either in East Asia, where whaling practices are slightly below legal, or up north somewhere, where whales are common and traditional food staples. My gut said up north. Sure enough, after a quick google, I discovered that this small group of islands is in between England and Iceland, and part of the Kingdom of Denmark (also, Denmark is still a kingdom. Who knew). Up in northern Canada, whales are killed for food, yet there is very little you hear about that. Because that’s what the Inuit do, and as Canadians, we are taught to respect native peoples traditional rights. Yet these people don’t get the same ones? According to another article I read, the people of the Faroe Islands have also practiced whaling for generations upon generations. So why is this so deplorable?

Well, one of the reasons is that somewhat recently, there was a huge push against China and Japan and their whaling habits. I believe this was a case of mass overfishing and sub-par killing tactics, which China always seems to be in trouble for. I remember watching a fairly disturbing video a while back which showed some of the practices in the fur industry, where animals aren’t even fully dead when they’re skinned. Of course, it was in China. My theory to China’s notoriety in this area is a combination of the huge population, authoritarian government and wide variety of food they consume. In order to satisfy all those desires for whatever food they like (like shark-fin soup), animals are killed in massive groups and because government regulation is lax in these areas, companies can save money with sub-par practices and not having the proper equipment. Because it all comes down to money. So now, with the pictures from the Faroe Islands going viral, these memories are brought up again and the worst is automatically assumed.

Now, if that’s correct, it makes sense about the outrage. But it doesn’t explain why it’s so furious. The Faroe Islands people are called despicable because they kill whales. That’s it. No one knows what else they do. So the problem becomes less about prevention and more about ignorance. Which is annoying. But not nearly as annoying as my last point.

After reading a response to the whaling pictures supporting the right for the Faroe people to fish whales like they have for generations, one thing became fairly obvious: the biggest driving factor of this social movement is animal rights.

Now, I do have to admit, I am not well researched in this issue. I read a news article and a half about it. I googled where the Faroe Islands were. That’s pretty much all I’ve heard of it. But it vividly reminds me of another group I have more knowledge with, which is PETA. Most people I know would agree with me in saying that PETA is straight up crazy. I remember when they wrapped up naked supermodels in clear plastic in order to make a point about eating meat. I also remember when they made a mini-game based on Pokémon, but arguing that it was supporting abuse towards animals. Both those are HUGE over-reactions towards something that ISN’T A PROBLEM. So that doesn’t help my opinion of this whole whaling thing.

But the biggest thing that makes me completely right this off as another internet social movement is that it’s arguing that whales and dolphins, because of their high intelligence and advanced family structures, deserve rights of their own.

No.

No no no no no no no.

Animals don’t get rights. They get survival. People get rights, because we’ve figured out that the best way to live is to have some sort of government with laws, and that we can’t simply run around doing whatever we please. This was done with logic and rational thought. We figured out that killing each other over a mate isn’t right, and should be punished. We figured out that eating each other would quickly wipe us out. We figured out that grabbing a mate whenever we want is also bad and should be punished, because if one person has rights, so does another. Religion has given us a great guide in those. God basically commanded all those things, along with a few others, in Exodus. But we don’t have to follow them. We’ve figured out that it helps to. That’s why we have rights. Animals haven’t figured those out yet, so they don’t get people status. They get animal status, which means no rights.

But because we have rational thought and the ability to think in future and past tense, as well contemplate our own existence, we realize that we have to respect and take care of animals. It doesn’t mean that we have to treat them as equals, because they are not equal to us, but that we shouldn’t kill all the cows because we want steak. We’re smart about raising beef, so that we can have beef for many many years. This goes for any other animal that is eaten in this world. It also helps to remember that God created all the animals, and we should respect all that God created, because God didn’t make something for no reason.

Sadly, some people haven’t figured this out, as there have been actions passed giving whale and dolphin relatives the right to life. The animals didn’t decide this. They had it forced on them by people who think they’re doing the right thing. They’re not. If a whale wants the right to live, then it can argue it in a court of law.

So this is nothing more than an internet fad. Someone found some bloody pictures and now everyone hates the people of the Faroe Islands. I’m sure they’re super nice, too. Anyone remember Kony? No? Exactly. 2 years ago, there was a movement to raise awareness about Kony, a dictator in Africa (I can’t even remember where), who was using child soldiers. And why were people supporting that? Because kids shouldn’t be soldiers. That’s obvious. But nothing ever happened, and everyone forget about it in a few months. The organizers even dropped it. It all started because kids are so cute, and now they’re brainwashed and killing people. Now it’s the adorable baby whales, who are slaughtered right in front of their parents. There are so many other REAL things to be enraged over, like the overfishing of tuna in the Mediterranean, but have you ever seen a tuna? Not a pretty fish. It’s the cute factor. That’s really the driving force behind this.

Now, it’s up for everyone to decide what they want to support. But it’s always good to think about it first before jumping on the social bandwagon. As for me, I’m going to support the rights of the Faroe Island people to hunt responsibly. And though I wouldn’t join the hunt, I’d sure eat with them. Fresh whale meat sounds tasty. 

I could go on for much longer about how much I hate the animal right groups, but I'll spare you my ranting. So here's the link to the article I read. It has a bunch of interesting stats that'll make you think. http://www.spectator.co.uk/features/9126932/why-we-should-let-faroe-islanders-hunt-whales/

Another Story

This is a story that I'm currently working on. It's a sci-fi narrative based on the theory of cloning, and whether the same person would be created if genetic material was used from someone who had died (for example, cloning John Lennon). Would being in a different time create a different person, even though they would be exactly the same genetically? Would it create a completely different person, based on their surroundings (would new John Lennon even be musical?). Would that genetic material also carry with it memories? Probably not, but what if? That's what I based my idea for this story on. The stuff here is the preface and first bit of Chapter 1. I've always liked the idea of having something I've written published, and I think this story has the potential to be a very interesting novel for teens, but also enjoyable for anyone who's a fan of the genre. But I first need to know if this is worth reading. I think it is, but I can only buy so many of my own books. So please send me some feedback on what you think. You can leave it as a comment here, or email it to me at dayton.reimer@gmail.com. Or tell it to me in person. Basically, I'm wondering if this intro is at all interesting and would compel the reader to continue. If so, let me know. If not, why? What could I do to improve it? Also, I'd imagine there's plenty of grammar errors. You can tell me about them too. 

Thanks, and (hopefully) enjoy.

“This isn’t legal.”

The doctor ignored him, flipping a switch on a large drum-like object. The machine whirred to life, making a soft electrical hum as it waited for its next orders.

“This is going to destroy everything we’ve worked for!”

The lab coat spun around, revealing the hate and frustration that was spilling from his eyes. “No, to do NOTHING will destroy everything we’ve worked for!”

He abruptly turned back to the machine, and began to insert several petri dishes smeared with a clear-ish gel smeared in their centers. His colleague behind him glared, but he didn’t turn to return the frustration and reveal that he was just as afraid and cynical. There were no guaranteed success. The samples provided were barely enough, since so much had been either charred beyond use or weren’t the parts needed. And if they were caught, it would mean instant death. Not that their involvement with this group hadn’t already ensured that, but this added a new level of fear. They were committing a crime that was outlawed before everything changed. But orders were orders, and it did seem like the best- and only- solution.

 The doctor quickly pushed several buttons on the cylindrical machine, causing it to emit a louder, spinning sound from within. The process would take several hours before any development could be observed, so he turned to leave, brushing past the terrified and frustrated colleague, who stood motionless, staring at the whirring machine. The only light and sound in the room, other than the doctor’s brisk footsteps, was emitted by this metallic barrel. The doctor reached the door, pushed the latch open, and took a step out.

“Ihr Geist lebt weiter.”

The doctor paused in the doorway, grabbed by his colleague’s voice. That phrase - their spirit lives on, in English. That’s why they were doing this, the reason that he had signed up in the first place. It was the reason behind every decision he had made in the last five years, even the one to support this undercover, highly risky action. He just never imagined that he would be one of the two selected to design and execute the procedure. As these thoughts rushed through his mind, he took a deep breath and dropped his chin to his chest. “Ihr Geist lebt weiter,” he uttered in reply, then entered the darkness of the hallway.

CHAPTER 1

Gunfire sounded all around him. Explosions ripped through the night air, followed closely by the whizzing of bits of dirt and metal as it flew by the soldier’s heads, occasionally finding its mark with a wet thud. The only way to avoid certain death was to huddle deep in the trenches. Any movement too high was announced with bullet and laser fire. It was chaos, and Captain Arric was running out of options.

They had tried to catch the enemy by surprise, but every attempt was predicted, maybe even already known by their foes. They had tried waiting for a lull in the fire. In fact, they were still waiting. It hadn’t come for three months, since the beginning of this battle. Food and water were low, and morale was even lower. Arric was sure that if they weren’t trapped in this trench, he would have been the only one who would have stayed. That, and if every person associated with him didn’t already have a bounty on their head. But he still had to do something.

Then it hit him. Thankfully, he was wearing a helmet. A shovel had come flying out of the air and slammed against Arric’s head after the latest shell had erupted in another trench ahead of them. They could tunnel to the other side. Maybe. It was beyond risky; it was uncomfortably close to suicide. But what other choice did he have?

Suddenly, a sharp cry cut through the stillness.

“Arric!”

Arric jolted awake and found himself. Gone were the explosions, the gunfire, the dark, muddy trenches, and the cries of fear and pain. He was instead placed under the disapproving gaze of a middle-aged woman, whose face was scarred with stress lines. Her eyes were tired and apathetic, yet fierce, begging whoever they fell upon to try that again just to see what happens. Then he realized that he was also confined in a small, wooden desk. Arric was not on the battle field. He was still in school.  

“Would you care to answer the question?”

Arric rubbed his eyes and looked down at the worn surface that had only moments ago held his head and noticed a small puddle of drool, which he quickly wiped away. “Umm…not really,” he replied, his face pointed towards his desk top, trying to avoiding eye contact with his teacher. A few students giggled behind him.

“Would that be because you were asleep again in my class and didn’t hear a word I said?” Her voice was agitated, but it was obvious that apathy had again won against doing anything about it.

“Yes, Mrs. Hiller,” mumbled Arric, his face still down, still trying to avoid that spiteful gaze.

Mrs. Hiller sighed a sigh of defeat and frustration, wishing more than anything that she could be at home with her cats. It sometimes seemed that even they listened better than these students. “That’s the sixth time this week. This has got to stop, Arric. I’ll be sending a note home to your father after school.” She shook her head and walked over to her big oak desk and scribbled a brief reminder on a sticky note. “As I was saying,” she began again, continuing on with the lesson, “the American government used to be made up of three branches: the legislative, the judicial, and the executive. These all worked together to form a balance of power and ensure that everything was done democratically, but proved at times to be very inefficient. The system now used, which was created by President Gowen, is the single branch, simply called the President. This position combines the previous three branches in order to promote efficiency and effectiveness in dealing with immediate problems. Now, can anyone tell me why the position was created?”

Arric’s hand immediately shot up and high as he could raise it. Mrs. Hiller thought that it actually might have detached itself if it had gone up any faster. She watched as the young boy bounced in his seat, begging to be picked. She looked around the classroom to see if anyone else knew the answer. A few other students had also raised their hands, though not nearly as enthusiastically. She contemplated actually picking one of the other students, but decided against it, as not picking Arric would probably cause his head to explode. And the biggest issue she had against that was that parents would complain about the mess and ‘mental scarring.’ She hated parent complaints.

“Yes, Arric?”

“The civil war of 2076!” he shouted, barely waiting for his teacher to stop speaking.

“Very good, Arric,” she replied. “Do you know why the civil war caused Mr. President to change the governmental structure?” Mrs. Hiller immediately winced. Of course he knew the answer, and she had just set off a bomb.

“Because the rebel leader Graff was opposing the President by having lots of protests and stuff. He was the leader of an opposition party, called the White Rhino Party, which the President didn’t like because Graff kept talking about how bad the government was, so he attacked a protest group in April of 2074, which is why it’s called the April Massacre, because there was, like, twenty people that were killed, and then Graff built an army over two years, and attacked the government, and the government wanted to get stuff done really fast without having to ask questions and so he called for a state of emergency, but they weren’t actually gotten rid of until 2078 and Graff was dead.”

Arric gasped for air, as he hadn’t taken a breath in his entire monologue. Mrs. Hiller glanced upwards in exasperation. “Thank you, Arric.” She opened her mouth to resume her lecture again, but just then a loud bell rang through the classroom. She sighed. The end of the day. Freedom. “Alright class, remember to read to chapter on how the American government was organized throughout history, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”